


Leather

by violettte



Category: U2
Genre: F/M, Light BDSM, Multi, ZooTV Tour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4386797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violettte/pseuds/violettte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The palms of his hands burn, as if he is the very devil himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leather

Berlin, 1991.

 

The palms of his hands burn, as if he is the very devil himself, sliding here along with her on a sea of black leather. She's been tired for weeks, literally, fending off the demons of roommates and dead parents and her own, but for now she's in-the-moment, finally fully awake. Fully awakened to his eyes glinting madly up from the orbit of her hips. Fully awakened to his wet silken touch on her everywhere, while eyes of others watch her swoon. Fully awakened to the hot press of his cock against her thigh, blood singing, singing that he wants this too. 

“Am I your cocaine?” he purrs, and her reptilian brain snorts with such derision, but his cock is so hard and her cunt is so desperate that it shuts the derision away. Others watching snort too. She writhes and bucks her hips at him, a smile on her painted glossy lips that she hopes appears predatory. 

“Am I your drug?” he asks, pressing one fiery palm against her swelling clit, and fire leaps through her body, up through her core. He presses harder, in slow circles, and the fire dances to the rhythms of his hand. The rhythm penetrates her with his gentle fingers and she cries for him, cannot help it. God was not anywhere near enough to listen in, anyways. His pace is deliberate, slow, coaxing. Her hips thrum, skin squealing on the oiled leather.

“Because you, love, could become my addiction,” he growls, and sets upon her with velvet tongue, and the Others watching gasp and moan along with her as he tastes her, laps at her, devours her so hotly. Flame builds up inside her loins, pouring forth to him. He drinks greedily. She thrusts up against his beautiful stone-cut jaw and offers her release, so quickly, and she feels him laugh. 

“Too easy, you are,” he slurs, dabbing her juices from his jaw in one swift erotic movement. She rears up on her knees, ready to kiss the sky. He falls to his back, engorged and lovely, so cruel and ready. The room blurs a bit as she is still reeling from orgasm but the taste of his cock brings her back quickly, hard, silky, hers for the moment. Never forget, she grins around his length, and he moans for her and her only. 

“Too easy, you are,” she slurs back to him just before he erupts, and there is a startled hush. No one talks back to the Daemon. He only leers at her, panting, angry. “Turn over,” he grunts, stroking himself, watching her, waiting. She does not move. 

“Turn over,” he repeats with volume, and grabs her by the hips, hard, dragging her to him and grinding against her bare cunt with intent, with purpose. The tip of his cock begins to tease at her and she burns for him, aches for him. Fuck.

“What do you want,” he asks, pushing inside her just so, just a bit. Her cunt quickens.

“Your fuck,” she moans, and the Daemon laughs darkly. Slowly the flames lick inside her, up, up, up to her hilt. Slowly out. Her knees are wobbling hard, harder. More laughter.

“You don't deserve it.” Lick, lick, licking at her neck as his cock deepens inside her. 

“Please,” she says dutifully, bucking against his slow assault. 

“Please?” he mocks, drawing out almost fully. Her body throbs with despair and she screams. “You hardly deserve it. You talked back to me.”

“I'm sorry, Mac.”

Slowly, slowly back up inside her. “Why, I don't believe you.” But his pace quickens, and his breath comes faster, and her loins throb with his stoking sweet fire, and the Others, they are moaning to this, and this is where she wants to be, this is all she needs. And then he is gone. And she is screaming again, but the gag is gently being wrapped into her voice, around her jaw, and she knows her fate.

“I know you are, love, I know. But now you're going to have to earn it,” he says simply, and she watches with hot resignation and fear as one of the Others, a chiseled man with a goatee, hands the Daemon his leather strap. The sharp crack on her flesh is the last sensation she's aware of before the bliss blackens her gaze and she retreats, retreats, for the night.


End file.
